


How to Catch Professor Willow

by tiatodd



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Gen, forgot about the tea, porn with slight plot, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7451707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiatodd/pseuds/tiatodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Congratulations. Your first bona fide Prof. Willow x Reader smutfic, and the first fic I’ve written with a gender-neutral reader. Sin away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Catch Professor Willow

“Oh! Well, I stopped by to tell you how good you’re doing,” he says with a genuine smile. Professor Willow stands in your doorway and has been for the good minute it’s taken for you to gather yourself. This unexpected house call happens to be a pleasant one, and you struggle to listen while your eyes are distracted by the endearingly awkward movement of this gorgeous man putting his glasses into his labcoat pocket. “And to thank you for all the Pokemon you’ve transferred to me. It really helps with my research.”

“That’s all you came to say?” you say, trying to keep disappointment out of your voice. You noticed his foot angled toward the door, posture ready to move. “I mean. I just made some tea, and I probably won’t drink it all myself.”

His smile weakens and his brow furrows, a look of polite confusion. “Oh. Well...I hope you...do?”

You don’t want to embarrass him with the correction, but he catches it before you have to.

“Oh! Were you inviting me to…? Well that’d be lovely, thank you!”

You prepare for the situational stress of knowing he won’t pick up any subtle hints. You’ll have to be aggressively flirtatious with this man, but without making him uncomfortable. “Great, uh...kitchen’s this way. Thank--thank you for dropping by. You really think I’m doing a good job as a trainer?”

He chuckles softly. “Well, I can’t know for certain unless you’d allow me to take a look at your Pokemon, but you’re an eager and adventurous soul and I--I figured this sort of adventure would call to you.”

You smile back at him as he takes a seat at the granite island. Preoccupied with willing yourself not to blush, you reach for the cabinet and catch air, stumbling a couple steps. The blessed man does not laugh, and you know it takes willpower for him not to.

Upon opening the cabinet, you remember your...challenging personal height. And normally, hopping up onto the counter would be your natural solution, but not in the presence of such a refined guest.

Two shelves up. You focus on the objective, planting one hand on the counter for leverage. You got this. “Um, I just had, like...a few reservations about.” Take a breath. “Battling? The Pokemon?”

“Oh? What sort of reservations.”

“Well, um.” The ethical responsibility, for one. “Say a Pokemon I’ve captured faints? Obviously that’s unpleasant for them, I just.” Your fingertip hooks into the handle of a cup. It’s precarious. You let go. “I’m concerned about long-term damage.” You’re on your tiptoes. You bounce a little on the balls of your feet. Your index finger touches a cup, pushing it inward. “Dammit,” you whisper.

“Do you need help?”

Before you can respond, he’s eagerly behind you, reaching for the same cup.

You feel your eyebrows rise, wondering if he notices how immediately behind you he’s standing. You can feel the intimacy of his energy mingling with yours. Part of you suspects it’s innocent; he hasn’t an inkling of your attraction.

If that’s the case, he won’t know unless you tell him.

Or show him.

The thought enters your mind and you blush at yourself, heart starting to putter excitedly. He’s positioned just perfectly at your backside, perhaps it wouldn’t be _too_ intrusive to just. Push back and grind. Just do it.

You can’t.

You look up and mumble thanks as he hands you a cup. As he reaches for another, your window is closing. He has such nice hands. You want them on your hips.

Taking a short breath, hands braced on the countertop, you push your hips back, up, and back down, pressing into the firmness and heat of his body. His hand flinches a little and you pull your hips forward, face flushed as his index finger stallingly taps the handle of the teacup.

After a frozen moment, he brings the cup down and sets it as gingerly as he can manage onto the counter with a small _tink_.

You notice he doesn’t take a step back from you.

“I’m...sorry. Wow, I’m so sorry, Professor Willow, that was crossing a line…I’ve made you uncomfortable, I--”

“Oh, n-not...um.” His hand rests flatly on the counter next to the teacups. You hear him take a deep breath; his exhale blows softly past your ear. “I just did...not expect _that_ at all. But if you’d rather drop the issue…”

You put your hand atop his. “No, no! I mean, I don’t want to take this any further if it makes _you_ uncomfortable, but I’m quite attracted to you, and…” His thumb reaches up to stroke yours and your heart skips. Needing a sudden break from the near-suffocating heat, you take a breath, grab the cups and take them to the kettle which has apparently been whistling.

Your hands shake a slight amount as you pour, and when you look over your shoulder, the professor looks quizzically at you, still standing by the cupboard. “And…?”

“Oh. I was ju--I was just.” You focus your eyes on the tea. “‘And,’ if you have nothing going on right now, we could uh. Get to know each other a little.”

He laughs quietly. “And by ‘get to know each other’ I s-suppose you didn’t have ‘just talking’ in mind.”

Mentally backtracking, you turn around with two cups of tea in your hands, quickly forgetting what you were going to do with them. Instead, you focus on rewriting what you were trying to say. “I didn’t mean that I, um, I don’t want you to think that I only want to have sex with you. Good gracious.” Your face is even redder. You register him coming toward you, but all he does is quickly grab the tea you’re nearly spilling. “I ju-ust was thinking maybe _tonight_ we could...be casual. And just go from there? I don’t know what I’m trying to say, oh gosh.”

He looks a vague bit panicked, but steps forward and leans down to give you a chaste kiss.

“I’m…”

“I’d like that,” he says, face pinkening.

\---

You’ve taken him to your bedroom, reminding yourself you may need to take the lead. You aren’t certain if he’s actually shy or just being respectful, but you make the move anyway, smoothly turning around to kiss him, on your tiptoes with one arm around his neck. His hands settle on your waist and you tingle where he touches you.

Invigorated, you grab his wrists to push those hands to the base of your buttocks, encouraging him to lift you toward himself. His lips shy away but you kiss him more urgently, your stomach fluttering hotly as you lick his lower lip.

You hear his breathing hitch and it’s heavenly.

He still seems a bit withdrawn so your lips leave his, trailing along his jawbone to where you can sink your teeth into the side of his neck--no, not that quite yet, maybe a little...nibble.

He gasps.

Breathing in his scent, you grab the lapels of his ridiculous labcoat and throw it off of him. _Finally I can see you out of this ridiculous outfit,_ you think, pressing kisses down his neck to his clavicle. Your hands fumble blindly for the ring on his zipper, and as soon as your finger hooks into it, you’re pulling it down, revealing more of his chest and torso.

His hands don’t display as much urgency as your own, but have let themselves up into your shirt. As you continue to undress him, his fingers approach the sensitive area of your nipples, stall, but then continue upward. He has his hands splayed over your chest, the warmth of his palms and long fingers sensually comforting.

“Sorry,” he breathes, but before he can take his hands back to himself you hold them there.

“You touch that as much as you want, okay?”

He nods, leaning in to kiss your ear, teeth grazing lightly. Your knees begin to wobble, so you walk backward toward the bed and pull him with you by the belt loops of the ridiculous cargo shorts.

Sitting yourself up on the bed, you encourage him forward, stealing his lips with yours again. One of his knees presses into the bed between your legs and you debate hopping onto his thigh immediately. But not with cargo shorts over yoga pants.

“Okay...no Crocs on the bed and no cargo shorts either,” you say, hoping your joking nature isn’t lost on him. He seems more flustered with the thought of stripping down more, ducking his head away to hide his small smile as he kicks off the shoes and strips down to his last layer of clothing.

Oh. Those are. Form-fitting.

You crawl backwards onto the bed toward the pillows, grabbing for the back of his hair so you can put his lips on yours again. He’s more eager for it now, slipping an arm under your back and putting his weight on his elbow so his other hand can venture back under your shirt.

You quickly sit up, taking off your t-shirt in a hurry. You see him look at your chest and then away, hand still unapologetically exploring the topography of your ribcage and your hardening nipples. “Yes, ugh yes that’s good,” you encourage. Gingerly rolling and pinching one of your nipples in his fingers, he presses his nose against your jaw and touches his teeth lightly to the skin of your neck. You pull gently at his hair, hoping he’ll get the hint, and he does, biting right into you. You press your body against his, biting your lip as you feel his firm bulge against your thigh.

He bites harder and you tug his hair sharply. He hisses an inhale against your sensitive skin. “Please don’t tug so hard.”

“Sorry,” you breathe.

He bites you sharply and you yelp, fingers out of his hair and grabbing for something else. His shoulder.

He switches the arm he’s leaning on and tucks his hand into the waistline of your jeans, tugging to ask permission. You breathe a “yeah,” squirming to help him undress you, and as soon as your pants are off you hook your legs around his waist, grinding against that sizeable bulge.

“Oh my _god_ , please just get inside me already,” you huff, hearing him moan as his hips buck against your own.

In an athletic moment of climbing and pushing, you have him down on his back where you were, his hips under yours as you grind with unabashed vigor. He’s panting, one hand gripping the sheets of your bed as the other covers his mouth to stifle a rather loud moan.

You sit up on your knees and reach under you to pull down on those tight yoga pants, revealing the thickening base of his wiry treasure trail. His hands stop you and you suppress a protesting whine.

“I’m...a little…” He takes a breath, looking away from you. “I’m a little shy about all that. Would you mind if I took you from behind instead?”

Your vision is interrupted by a curtain of sparks. “Hm?”

“Or you could simply turn around if you wanted to be on top. I don’t have a preference.”

You lean forward and kiss him vigorously, reaching one hand into the drawer of your bedside table as you do so. Pulling back, you pass him the condom and swing your leg over him to turn yourself around.

You give him a moment to finish stripping down and get situated, the entire time focusing on your posture to make sure any time he looks at your ass, his breath is taken away.

You’ve also, perhaps, let your hand wander into the front of your panties, fingers preparing you for what he was so shy to show you.

“How’re you doing?”

“Ready when you are,” you say with a slight laugh, placing your hands on his knees, but running your fingers in slow circles to try to maintain some sensuality. You draw a sharp breath when you can feel the head of his hardened cock against you.

Moving your panties aside, you lower yourself to tease him, eyes fluttering shut as you’re teasing yourself with this as well. “Oh, professor…”

“You don’t have to call me--”

“Shh, it’s kind of hot,” you insist, easing yourself down onto him. Your eyes open back up as you realize what he’s so embarrassed about, mentally preparing yourself to be sore later.

The sounds from him are plentiful; a rhythm of heated breathing interspersed with higher-pitched, short whines. As you ride him, feeling him deep inside of you, you moan back appreciatively. Your head tips back in pleasure, eyes closing, and one of his hands reaches around to touch you.

He touches with care and response to the sounds and motions you make. “Yes, yes just like that,” you catch yourself saying. God, how slutty. One of your hands rests atop his as he continues to pleasure you. It’s a fair amount of stimulation and you’re lost for breath, fairly bouncing on him as you clench tightly around his cock.

He gasps sharply, as though alarmed. “I’m very close,” he warns, out of breath himself.

You nod, putting some extra work into your hips. Oh, you’re feeling the stars, too. You feel them in your lower stomach, in your thighs, in--oh, they’re showing up in your eyes.

In moments, in building huffs of hot breath and loud moans between the two of you, you come within half a minute of each other. As he reaches the edge of his orgasm, you hear his shuddering breath as though he’s seeing heaven.

Letting out a very gentle, somewhat porny moan of your own as you come down from your climax, you let your body physically relax.

You swing your leg back over him, sitting down on your feet, wiggling a little bit as you’re still delightfully sensitive in the most satisfying of places. He instantly shifts his leg to hide himself and you mutter an apology.

He runs a hand through his silver hair, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “I’ll. Stop by more often to see how you’re doing, I guess. If that’s okay with you.”

“Obviously,” you sigh. “But wait, you’re not leaving _just_ yet, are you?”


End file.
